tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42821487849097695602018-03-06T17:15:58.344-08:00The Adventures of Sue and MoSue and Mohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04146807746848029979noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282148784909769560.post-17544003526495011652009-10-25T10:31:00.000-07:002009-10-25T11:19:23.852-07:00. . .Still in Sweden<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SuSMzBkbGCI/AAAAAAAAAC0/wc05W8FRIAc/s1600-h/ConnyLundgren.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396593061719119906" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SuSMzBkbGCI/AAAAAAAAAC0/wc05W8FRIAc/s200/ConnyLundgren.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div><blockquote></blockquote><div><div>I was going to write ‘after the party’ but there was no ‘after’. It was still going strong when Sue and I left with Per at around 5am and we dossed at his place. We all kind of surfaced at midday and judging by their beige faces and pissholes-in-the-snow eyes, the other two were feeling as grim as me. Per took us out for brunch. Chitchat was non-existent until the coffee and croissants had kicked in. Then Per suddenly got enthusiastic about us driving out to a forest only twenty minutes from Stockholm to visit a friend of his. Sue said “Beautiful” in this dreamy, let’s-see-where-it-goes way she has but I was thinking mud, midges and fir trees. I mean, I can only take so many fir trees, know what I mean?</div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396592235764938082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SuSMC8pmdWI/AAAAAAAAACk/lNjyDAHHtzA/s320/EvatheWeaver.jpg" /> Mikael, this mate of Per’s, lives in a log cabin. He was prickly first off because we’d turned up without warning, but he was OK when Per gave him a bottle of Campofiorin Masi and he offered to cook us spaghetti. He turned out to be a really cool guy. They both are. Mikael took a shine to our red wheels. So we did a deal: our wheels for his ice silver BMW plus a dozen bottles of Prosecco and another of Cointreau thrown in. He’d had a lot of wine by then. We all had. It was hugs all round from Per. And then some. That Per likes his hugs. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SuSMWAV8D4I/AAAAAAAAACs/LRPf4-smoak/s1600-h/bmw+gina+SocialisBetter.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 147px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396592563173724034" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SuSMWAV8D4I/AAAAAAAAACs/LRPf4-smoak/s200/bmw+gina+SocialisBetter.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Sue and I headed off the next morning, no destination in mind. My turn to drive. I glanced across at Sue. Her skin was gleaming gold and she had a secret smile on her face. I said: “Hey, is that a man’s shirt you’re wearing?” Answer: “Oh… I guess.” She can be so deliberately vague when she wants to be.</div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:78%;">Photos courtesy of Connie Lundren, Eva the Weaver and Social is Better.</span></div></div></div></div>Sue and Mohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04146807746848029979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282148784909769560.post-66417033562259906752009-10-25T10:24:00.001-07:002009-10-29T08:46:40.157-07:00THE MAN FROM THE NORTH<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SuSKhV7jOYI/AAAAAAAAACU/lki-GbF1ftU/s1600-h/s.alt.perfect.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396590558923929986" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SuSKhV7jOYI/AAAAAAAAACU/lki-GbF1ftU/s320/s.alt.perfect.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 213px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><br /><div align="center">Grey skies and contrasts of light<br /></div>And water, water everywhere<br />The sea, a song and lingering nights<br />A smile yearning to appear<br /><br /><br /><br />The man from the north looked into my eyes<br />Reflected in his were signs of life<br />Captured deep beneath the ice<br /><br /><br /><br />In his hands he held my heart<br />And in a storm he disappeared<br /><br /><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><em>[you can listen to the song </em><em><a href="http://ccmixter.org/files/CiggiBurns/23382">here</a></em><em>]</em></span></span><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size: 78%;">Photo courtesy of S. Alt</span><br /></div></div>Sue and Mohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04146807746848029979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282148784909769560.post-80514779233645343072009-09-27T07:21:00.000-07:002009-10-25T09:07:40.610-07:00<span style="color:#cccccc;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 136px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386152814696445250" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/Sr91cqnztUI/AAAAAAAAABU/ISKERPYhIXA/s200/Stockholm_by_skansen.jpg" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Don’t know how we ended up here. Weird thing is that Sue doesn’t remember either. Last thing we have any sort of clarity on is downing pints of Guinness + blackcurrant with vodka chasers in the Lamb &amp; Flag on Ramsgate quay; then Sue driving our wheels up a ramp onto a random ferry (seemed a good idea at the time) and when we came round - with massive hangovers - we were in Stockholm! Bit surprising. But we decided to go with the adventure. Neither of us had done Sweden before. On the upside, there was a wide choice if you’re into tall blond men but Sue pointed out that men were off the menu for a while. So how come she was the one who hooked up with this guy Per later on? He kept trying to hug us and drag us along to a party. I’m not big on physical contact unless it’s sex but Sue’s more – er – adaptable. Anyway, we ended up having a great time and we definitely want to stay in contact with Per! But I told Sue straight, “You can’t always rely on your intuition, girl.” What’s she like!! <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/Sr91pPhKPkI/AAAAAAAAABc/h-_POZJ_Sq4/s1600-h/Too_good_to_be_true_by_LiquidEssence.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 125px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386153030759104066" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/Sr91pPhKPkI/AAAAAAAAABc/h-_POZJ_Sq4/s200/Too_good_to_be_true_by_LiquidEssence.jpg" /></a></span></span>Sue and Mohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04146807746848029979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282148784909769560.post-89663818466188138202009-09-24T10:16:00.000-07:002009-10-25T10:23:23.478-07:00Cut LooseYou can listen <a href="http://ccmixter.org/files/SackJo22/22845">here</a>.<br /><br />The Adventure of Sue and Mo<br /><br /><br />My daddy didn't love me the way that he should so I ended up finding it wherever I could<br />There've been a lot of men -- not always mine<br />I've never been too good at drawing the line<br />But I've slowed down, I want someone to care<br />I'm looking around and there's nobody there<br />I'm gonna break free, let my spirit unfurl<br />For an adventure like that, I need another girl<br /><br />My momma didn't love me as much as she should so I ended up being a girl who's no good<br />I do what I want and I take what I can<br />I've loved and left at least 1,000 men<br />But something is wrong, something's not right<br />I need something different to make me right<br />I need to break free, let my spirit unfurl<br />For an adventure like that, I need another girl<br /><br />Pack up, cut loose<br />Get rid of the map and step up the juice<br />We've got an open top car and jeans that are tight<br />We're gonna sing at the moon and drive through the night<br /><br />Wandering around with angry eyes, when I saw Sue I recognized<br />Had to let go of the past, the broken hearts<br />Tear down the town and have a new start<br /><br />I said, "Honey, let's break the rules, let's show those boys that they're just fools"<br />In it together we can set each other free<br />'Cuz I was like her and she was like me<br /><br />Pack up, cut loose<br />Get rid of the map and step up the juice<br />We've got an open top car and jeans that are tight<br />We're gonna sing at the moon and drive through the nightSue and Mohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04146807746848029979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282148784909769560.post-51889117974647094782009-07-26T22:52:00.000-07:002009-09-25T07:17:55.784-07:00Sue<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SrzQ8rEWl1I/AAAAAAAAAA0/2ZBS9xxwa9g/s1600-h/in+car.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 96px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 72px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385408995199981394" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/SrzQ8rEWl1I/AAAAAAAAAA0/2ZBS9xxwa9g/s400/in+car.jpg" /></a><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div>My name is Sue. I'm a loner with no attachment to anyone or any place. Attachment keeps you down, brings you down, takes you places you don't want to go. So I lose myself in the sensations of life, seeking pleasures and thrills wherever I go. Sure, some are quite risky, but that's what life is about. Feeling to the max to get filled up to the max. Even though I've done and seen things you couldn't imagine, I still haven't figured out what it's all about. The world is full of beauty and meaning intricately woven together in way that no one else seems to appreciate. So yeah, I seem cold and aloof, because you just don't understand me. Not many people even bother trying. Then came Mo. She recognized me. She saw me. She hopped right into my car to join me on this wild ride!</div></div></div></div></div>Sue and Mohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04146807746848029979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282148784909769560.post-18945627932181272342009-07-26T22:51:00.001-07:002009-07-28T08:45:56.040-07:00Mo<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/Sm8c-znG9DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Z7H6lUC_rqk/s1600-h/Mo+having+a+fag.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363537546553259058" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wieC1eWFsNI/Sm8c-znG9DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Z7H6lUC_rqk/s200/Mo+having+a+fag.JPG" /></a><br /><div>My name’s Mo. When I was a kid people used to say I was a tomboy but the choice was limited at the shithouse otherwise known as Pike’s Road Comprehensive: toughen up and survive; be flimsy and get your face stamped on. If there’d been a GCSE in talking back, I’d have got an A+. As it was, I left before taking any. Since those days I’ve gone through shedloads of crap jobs and crappier men. I never stay long with either. Some guys – the ones who’ve read books on counselling – tell me I’m callous as a defence against getting hurt. Maybe. But show me a loving, reliable guy and I’ll show you whether I can be nice or not. I don’t usually hit it off with other women, particularly if I’ve been shagging their husbands. But Sue’s different. She’s a real mate. Anyone messes with Sue, I’d punch their lights out.</div>Sue and Mohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04146807746848029979noreply@blogger.com0